Punishment?

—Kyra—

She knelt on the cold hardwood floor, her claws drawing crescent moons in her thighs. The silence stretched between them like a taut wire, each second amplifying the frantic pounding of her heart. 

Is he disappointed in me?

Will he abandon me… right when I finally found someone?

Why isn't he speaking?

The silence stretched—long, suffocating. And just when she thought it might break her—

Arman finally spoke. His voice was quiet. Controlled.

"Tell me what happened."

Kyra swallowed, her cheeks burning. She fidgeted. "I… I messed up."

He waited.

"I—I wanted to fix things after Selvaria walked in and stormed off. I didn't want you to think I embarrassed you or made you look bad, so I chased her. But I ended up… running into Leon, and it all just got worse."

He raised an eyebrow at my account, not buying it.

"She's not the type to leave over nothing," Arman said, steady but firm. "What really happened?"

Kyra's ears dropped completely.

Arrrghh how do I explain this!!!, this is to embarrassing. Her face turned an even darker shade of red.

"…I -Iwas smelling your clothes."

He blinked once.

"Say that again."

Her voice turned into a whisper. "I said… I was smelling your clothes."

He stepped closer. "One more time. Say it properly."

Her face burned, her throat closed.

And then she snapped.

"I WAS TOUCHING MYSELF WHILE SMELLING YOUR UNDERWEAR OK?!"

Silence.

Arman didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

I can't believe I said that!

Is he disgusted?

Will he throw me away now?

She risked looking up.

And what she saw wasn't disgust. It was stunned disbelief—and something else underneath. Heat. Vulnerability.

"…You were… why?"

"Because I missed you," she said, voice cracking. "Because you were gone, and I was alone, and then that woman looked at me like I was dirt. Like I didn't belong. So I panicked. I thought I was going to lose you."

I closed my eyes awaiting punishment, But it never came.

A soft hand appeared on my head and slowly patted me

"Kyra," he said softly. "You don't have to prove anything. Not to her. Not to anyone."

"But—"

"I don't care if you're strong, or clever, or noble." His eyes searched hers. "You stayed. You saw what I am, and you stayed. That means more than anything."

Her breath caught.

"You're not just someone I protect, your the first person that cared for me in this world." he continued. "You remind me what it means to want to protect. That I'm still human. That Im not completly gone…."

She leaned into him, eyes stinging.

"I'm still learning," he murmured. "What's real. What's mine. I don't even know if this body…" the words seem to die in his throat

A conflicted look appeared on his face

"You don't need to tell me now, I -I can wait, as long-"

He leaned in.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't wild. It wasn't desperate.

It was slow. Warm. Steady. A promise.

When they pulled apart, her breath was shallow. His thumb brushed her jaw as he spoke.

"That's all I can give you right now," he murmured. "But I'll give you everything you need. When I'm ready. When I know it's safe to keep it."

Kyra nodded, tears shining in her eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

—Arman—

A pulse in the corner of his vision. Not bright, not intrusive—just present.

[VOW ECHO: EMBERS OF TRUST — LEVEL UP]

Emotional Threshold Reached: Intimacy + Vulnerability

Vow Echo Stabilized — Synchronization Strengthened

New Ability Unlocked: Echo Blade – Sanctuary Step (Defensive Skill)

Status: [Partial Access]

Radius: 1 meter radius

Effect: Dampens all incoming physical and magical projectiles by 60%

Active Mode (Auto-Battle Only): Full Immunity inside zone; counters ranged strikes with energy redirection

Mana Cost: High — Efficiency scales with Sync Rate (Current: 32%)

If protecting Echo partner- effects +10%

Arman blinked. The familiar hum of the system wasn't jarring—it was soft, resonant. Like it had been waiting for this.

He felt it now, in his core. A flicker of instinct, like muscle memory—that familiar weight from Auto-Battle mode when he'd taken hits for her. Now, it was real. His own.

The sword art hadn't activated before because the bond hadn't matured.

Now, it was his.

Sanctuary Step.

A defensive technique. Not flashy. Not aggressive.

But powerful. Especially when defending her.

He could already feel it: the way his stance adjusted, the way his mana flowed toward his legs, waiting for an anchor point. If he was within range—if she was in danger—he could cast it like a bubble, a defiant refusal against incoming attacks.

Limited now. But in Auto-Battle?

It would be unstoppable.

They stayed like that a little longer—two quiet people with jagged edges, clinging to the only thing that made sense in a broken world:

She doesn't know.

Not about the body. Not about the world.

Not that this might all be borrowed—fake

He held her a little tighter.

But when I'm sure… when I finally understand what I am and why I'm here…

I'll give her everything.